


Closet Confessions

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s desperate to get out of the closet.  Someone decides to help him along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closet Confessions

Dean closed his eyes on a sigh, leaned his forehead against the door. His fist was still half-raised, but banging on the door and screaming his head off had proven to be completely useless. He was trapped.

In a closet.

At least he wasn’t alone, he guessed, but all things considered, it didn’t make him feel a whole lot better. Normally, Cas would be the person he called to get him _out_ of these situations…not that he normally found himself locked in a large janitor’s closet with no way out, but still…and instead, the angel was trapped here right along with him.

“Tell me again why you can’t just mojo us outta here?” Dean asked, turning to pin a glare on Castiel.

The angel was seated on a milk crate against the wall, bent forward with his arms resting on his knees. He looked calm, but Dean saw the undercurrent of frustration that passed over his face every few moments. At Dean’s question, he looked up, scowling a little at Dean’s expression. “I cannot simply ‘mojo us’ out of this room because it’s been warded against any sort of angelic power. As I’ve already told you. Three times.”

Dean _hmph_ ed a little. The door had been warded too. Against brute force, lock picks, and all other manner of escape he usually relied on. And his fully charged cell phone had quite suddenly blinked off the second the door had closed. “Who the hell could even do that? If it was demons, wouldn’t they have come in and tried to kill us already?”

Cas shifted, and Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“You _know_ who stuck us in here?”

“I…have an idea of who it may have been, yes,” Castiel said after a long moment.

Dean growled. “And you haven’t mentioned this in the past half hour, _why?_ ”

“Because I’ve been spending the time trying to figure out what he hopes to accomplish by trapping us here.”

“He?” Dean paused. “Oh, no. _No_. C’mon. We _just_ got rid of that asshat _two weeks ago_. Can’t he leave us alone? _Ever?_ ” Another pause. “What makes you think it’s the trickst…uh, Gabriel, anyway?”

Castiel’s eyes slid to the side. Dean followed his gaze and groaned when he saw the small pile of candy wrappers half hidden behind a mop and large bucket. Like a goddamn _calling card_.

“Cas, I really hate your entire family.” Dean would have kicked the shelf next to him in frustration, but he’d already done that once, and had nearly been knocked out by a bottle of cleaning solution falling on his head. “So how do we get out of here then?”

“Well,” Cas said, looking thoughtful. “Everything Gabriel has done to you and your brother in the past has served some sort of purpose, been used to try and teach some sort of lesson. Correct?”

“Yeah…I guess so…” Dean said unsurely.

“Well then, it would seem the first logical step would be to determine what lesson he wishes to teach this time. I must admit, I am at a loss. Do humans place some sort of significance on being trapped in a janitor closet?”

Dean’s brow furrowed for a long moment, and then his eyes widened and he stared at the door in dawning horror. “No…no fucking way…” He spun around and began pounding on the door again, yelling, “Lemme the hell outta here you smug prick! Let me out _right the hell now!_ ”

“Dean. _Dean!_ ” A hand clasped on his arm stopped Dean from seriously injuring himself on the door. “You need to calm down. What is the problem?”

“That…that frigging…that _jackass_ of an archangel is implying that we’re…” His jaw clenched and he forced himself to continue through clenched teeth. “… _gay_.”

Castiel lowered his hand slowly as his brows knit together. “You mean to say that my brother believes we are harboring sexual desires for each other?”

Dean groaned loudly at hearing it in such blunt terms. “ _Yes_ , Cas, that’s what I meant.” He stared angrily at the door again and shouted, “I’m not _gay_ you stupid -”

Castiel’s hand covered his mouth quickly. “Dean, do you really think insulting him is the smartest thing you could do in this situation?”

Dean reluctantly subsided, glowering, and Castiel’s hand lowered once more.

“So then, I assume if we were to…admit to having these sorts of feelings, he would release us,” Cas murmured, seemingly to himself. “Still, I can’t see what sort of purpose this really serves. Perhaps if he had some sort of -”

“It doesn’t _matter_ , because we don’t _have_ … _feelings_ for each other, so he’s wrong anyway, and we’re gonna be stuck here till -”

Castiel fidgeted, and Dean blinked, his words trailing off.

“Cas?”

“When you say he’s ‘wrong’, that is not precisely…correct,” Castiel said, looking down and…

 _Oh my God_ , Dean thought, _He’s_ blushing _!_ “ _Cas?_ ” he repeated, somewhat desperately.

The angel looked up at him. “Gabriel is notorious for observing people, and noticing things that many others would miss. It is why the disguise he chose for himself was so perfect, why he made it fit him so flawlessly.” And then his gaze slithered back down again.

Dean stood there, gobsmacked. “You…but…you’re a…what the _f_ -”

Castiel’s head came up again, his head tilted to the side. “It is because I’m an angel that this makes no sense to you? Dean, have I not proven more than once that I am not what you would call a typical angel? I rebelled against all of Heaven for you, I risked my _grace_. I…would have thought my feelings for you would have been obvious.”

Put that way, Dean was…sort of maybe a bigger idiot then Sam usually accused him of being. But even _still_ , how could he ever have guessed that that wasn’t Cas just…doing the right thing, or whatever?

Of course, there _were_ all the long looks (something Sam gigglingly referred to as _eye-sexing_ when he was drunk), and the disregarding of personal space, and the way he said Dean’s name sometimes…

Yeah. Dean was sort of an idiot. Like, a lot.

But then again, it’s not like _he_ never stared at the angel, or got all up in his face sometimes, or even christened him with a nickname all his very own, or…

Oh. _Oh._ Crap.

Dean faced the door again, his eyes wide, wondering how many times he should bash his head against it in payment for his sheer blatant stupidity.

“Dean?” Castiel said, sounding tentative, and maybe even a little afraid. “I’m…sorry if this knowledge upsets you, I hadn’t planned on…”

Dean whirled around and launched himself at the angel, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him soundly. “Stop talking, Cas,” he mumbled against his lips.

It took Castiel a few moments to get with the program, and by the time he was cautiously kissing Dean back, the door to the closet was opening, bright light flooding the room, the sound of sardonic clapping filling the air.

Dean pulled away from Castiel, turned around, and blinked rapidly, thinking he must be seeing things wrong. But when he focused, his brother was still standing on the other side of the door, shuffling his feet, hands in his pockets, looking incredibly guilty even though he was smiling somewhat awkwardly down at the floor. Next to him, the Trickster…Gabriel…was leaning against the wall tossing Skittles into his mouth one at a time and smirking to himself.

“What…what is this?” Dean asked, mouth gaping. Beside him, Castiel looked from hunter to archangel and back again, head tilted. “Sam? Did you…were you _in on this?_ ”

“Dean…try to understand,” Sam said pleadingly as Dean stepped out of the closet, fists clenched. “Gabriel came to _me_ , and agreed to hear me out. He listened to everything I said, about Lucifer and Michael, and the way the angels kept coming after us, and…just, everything. And after, he said he would help us…on a condition.”

“And what was the condition?” Dean bit out.

More foot shuffling from Sam, and more smirking from Gabriel, who pushed himself off the wall and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing Dean. “You and my baby brother clearly had some… _issues_ you needed to work out, and Sam agreed. So I told him, if he helped me with this, we’d be even, and I would help you fix the world.”

Dean raised a sardonic eyebrow. “That’s it. Really? You really expect me to believe that shit?”

Gabriel shrugged. “You can believe it or not believe it. Truth is, Sammy here convinced me that maybe the world was worth trying to save after all, and I don’t want to have to do it while watching you circle each other like you’re living in a freaking soap opera. The soaps _I_ watch are _way_ more entertaining than you two.”

Dean was about to growl out some sort of sarcastic reply – probably taking a shot at the archangel, which, yeah, while fun, would maybe not be the best idea – when Castiel’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Dean,” was all he said, but it was enough to have Dean backing down.

Which was kind of annoying, actually.

But then the angel was turning him, backing him slowly against the wall, pressing against him and slotting his lips to Dean’s and suddenly, vengeance didn’t seem so terribly important anymore.

Not even when Castiel pulled away for a minute to murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” to both of their damn brothers, or when he saw Sam cover his eyes with a groan, or even when Gabriel cackled gleefully and snapped his fingers.

He barely noticed when their surroundings changed and they were suddenly alone in what looked like the swankiest hotel suite on the Las Vegas strip. Because Cas was there again, right in his space, and he had a lot of lost time to make up for.


End file.
